User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapte 64
Previous Chapters 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th, 29th, 30th, 31st, 32nd, 33rd, 34th, 35th, 36th, 37th, 38th, 39th, 40th, 41st, 42nd, 43rd, 44th, 45th, 46th, 47th, 48th, 49th, 50th, 51st, 52nd, 53rd, 54th, 55th, 56th, 57th, 58th, 59th, 60th, 61st, 62nd, 63rd The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 64 4th Era 171, 5th of Second Seed, Pyandonea Orgnum leaned back in his throne, lacing his fingers together as he propped up his elbows on the armrests and rested his head on the back of the chair. "And what makes you think this is such a great idea?" he asked, looking at the man before him through his fingers. "Well," he began, clearing his throat, "If you have a translator, you can communicate with the rest of the world when you're ready to conquer them...so they will all understand you." "And you - naturally - beleive that you're the best person for that, I take it? Or it will be someone you know." Orgnum pointed out. One didn't rule for thousands of years without picking up certain habits of people in general...especially those that came to give "suggestions," as they always called them. This was no different. As the Aldmeri Dominion declared war on the human Imperial Empire (which was really only a shadow of its former self), Israthil - a language scholar - came to him with the idea of appointing another translator to help him in any efforts to invade Summerset Isle while the Altmer were busy with the humans. A nice idea, but with one rather large drawback: he was alone, while the Dominion had client states that it could call on for help. Also, there was that ever-present problem of the all-too-long-lived rebellion he had been dealing with for the past 71 years. It was nearly impossible to tell who was and who wasn't one, they were so well hidden. Despite his hatred of them, he had to admire their abilities in remaining undetected. If only they had served their King with such fervor. It could very well be that the moment he struck Summerset, the rebels would start an armed conflict while his attention was elsewhere, leaving him with less men to protect him than was desired. It would be best to plan an attack when most of the Dominion's army was deployed, as to prevent their armies from being equal in number. The man before him cleared his throat again. "Well, yes...I mean, it would be entirely up to your discretion," he added quickly, noting the King's rising eyebrows and the gleam of the guards' weapons, "for such a position, but I think - my humble opinion, Your Majesty - that a translator would do you the most good on a military campaign." There was a lengthy pause as Orgnum unlaced his fingers, sat slightly straighter in his throne, and crossed his legs. Resting his arms on the elegantly carved armrests, he stared at the scholar before him. He supressed his smile as the man began to shrink under the royal gaze. Many millenia of this game, and he never tired of it. Making his subjects feel small; in their place. Almost everyone would shrink under his steady, wordless gaze. It was a rare person who didn't, who maintained eye contact and stood straight. Those few people were dealt with, one way or another, such as the pest Balasian. "I will not be needing a translator," Orgnum stated at last, breaking his silence. "When I strike, there will be no need for the populace of Summerset and Tamriel to know my desires. My army will state those desires...in a universally understandable language." he rumbled, his deep voice reverberating slightly in the grand throne chamber. As Israthil opened his mouth to protest, Orgnum held up a finger, and the man fell silent. "I meant what I said." he stated flatly, lowering the finger. "You wouldn't want to disobey your King, would you? The dissidents flout the rule of their allmighty King. You wouldn't happen to be one of them, would you?" he asked mock-innocently, his perfect eyebrows rising up his forehead as he leaned forward in his throne. Israthil paled. "N-n-no, your Majesty. I have only your interests at heart." His Great Majesty Orgnum stared at him again, and the man shrunk even further. "Good." He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, the light from the crystal lamps and chandeliers glittereing off of his rings and midnight hair. "Be gone. You're dismissed." The scholar nodded feverishly. "Yes, yes, of course Your Majesty." and carefully backed up from the thone while repeatedly bowing before turning and hurrying out, the guards closing the doors after him. Category:Blog posts